Best Incurring Poems
she stands alone incurring her indomitable wrath
4/4/2016
My secret is a phobia that many would not guess.
Bringing me much anguish and quite a lot of stress.
Some say that it is silly, to me it is immense.
Causing me to detour, incurring more expense.
I keep my phobia secret for fear I’m thought to be
Wacky and ridiculous and also cowardly.
And so I travel many miles until I find, at last.
A station that’s full service so they can pump my gas.
You may think this is foolish but I have thought this through.
And I have many reasons for thinking as I do.
So much I have imagined could possibly take place.
A series of unfortunate events I’d hate to face.
For instance, there’s the nozzle, already filled with fuel.
It can be very dangerous and such a deadly tool.
What if the gas should suddenly begin to gush and flow?
It is a possibility I do not want to know.
And when the nozzle is in place, it is really there?
Or will the gasoline start splashing out and everywhere.
Will it drip onto my car or maybe on my shoes?
Later on igniting – of this I often muse.
I therefore watch my gas gauge very carefully.
And then I fill it often because I fear to be.
Forced to stop at self-serve when my fuel is low.
Because there is no telling the way the gas might flow.
Policy or personal
questions? In the poem Two White Wines
a child adopted from Cambodia
is a thing of beauty, and so she is
as she showed herself to be yesterday. Lovely. However
the poet implies market, i.e. economic, forces brought her to America
when, as her parents know, it was war,
the sad Vietnam War or the War with America
as I think the Vietnamese remember it.
Honor and bravery
equal courage. Reed Whittemore's poem about
a photo of Viet Cong prisoners, stoic, defiant
under an American officer's boot
expresses admiration for the enemy. Then and now
a dangerous sentiment. Your fellow citizens, denizens
of convenience stores, even your family,
may come to see you as the enemy. Once ostracized, the other,
not belonging to the loved ones, you're not long for
this world of dew.
**** and ****
Ken says, describes America's culture, not its poets
or jazz. What's worth fighting for?
Your land, your right to be stupid on your land.
Now there is one large land, one people
and many. The vote is a crude, monosyllabic grunt,
no way to express the subtle degrees of experience
our long lives represent. Thus,
it is good, when the family gathers, to talk,
each person speak
of what has been forgotten, forgiven and forgone.
Trading or taking
every family must be tithed or taxed.
Every man who finds his meaning in war
will be pained into wisdom and gentleness.
Who comes home
comes home to a future that bypassed the fighting, or did it?
The oil must be sold,
even Saddam or Osama cannot withhold it.
You can drink your quota of water
and still your heart can ache.
Empire or democracy
of nations? We can choose to be the reigning kings
between the last empire and the next
or we can implement a vision
of collective deliberation.
America the seeing-eye dog,
not America the junkyard dog.
Going question by question
toward predictable, transparent governance.
Example: How can a people become a nation
without resorting to violence or incurring violent reaction?
The gods’ privilege is never to die,
the men’s tragedy is most die
at some point in time of their life’s cycle.
The gods’ tragedy is gods can never die,
the men’s privilege is to die when time comes.
Because of her beauty and a handful of dust she held in her palm
she won god’s favor and was granted the privilege to live forever,
nonetheless, it turned into misery to suffer forever,
she,(1) therefore, wrote on a golden leaf, “I want to die.”
The wish of a crafty king,(2) who is to roll a rock to the top of hill
over and over under god’s harsh punishment, is to let the rock down and die rather than to undergo eternal life’s never ending toil.
The agony of the god who descended to the earth,
because he wanted to share the warmth of the bonfire(3)
kept exclusively for gods to sit encircle it and enjoy,
with the men he love was he couldn’t die.
Whether it’s right or wrong, because he stole the fire,
he is chained to a rock at the mountain standing in the edge
of the world, incurring the ridicule of an ill-bred god(4)
who frequently comes in and out the thieves’ den
to plot together another theft from another victim they chose.
His liver is pecked by a fierce eagle every morning;
hence it would be better for him not to see the ever renewing
sun rise from other side of the mountain.
Although it’s miserable to suffer forever
because he cannot die, it’s far worse to see men’s betrayal.
Ungrateful men’s avarice, instead of co-existence in peace
they kill each other, oppress weak to hold power,
use the fire as the weapon of massacre.
Every morning with renewing sun
he has to endure worsening pain though,
he won’t understand what the desperate mean,
because he is a god.
Although he may able to bear excruciating pain,
he couldn’t endure men’s betrayal.
The mountain collapses, the chain breaks off.(5)
1. Cummaean Sibyl. 2. Sisyphus. 3. Prometheus. 4. Hermes. 5. Aeschylus. tr. Mueller, Carl R. Prometheus bound, last line (Pandemonium. The mountain collapses.) q.v. Bulfinch’s Mythology, Prometheus, pp. 939-40.
A Bear in the Grocery Store
By Elton Camp
The greeter on the grocery side
Screamed as her eyes grew wide.
Never had she seen that before.
A black bear walked in the door.
Customers looked to see the matter.
Spotted the bear and began to scatter.
The public address began to blare,
Ordering associates to come there.
Customers were asked to leave the store.
“Just right now, we can’t sell any more.
Leave your shopping carts where they are,
Quietly and orderly file out to your car.”
The bear seemed to think all was fine.
And all orders to leave he did decline.
Only a deep, angry growl need he say
To make all the associates back away.
“I won’t risk incurring the bear’s rage.
Why, they only pay me minimum wage.
The manager’s the one who should care.
So, it is up to him to get rid of this bear.”
The bear stopped for a big bite of fruit.
Then the beef counter he began to root.
Once he seemed to have enough to eat,
He then reared up high on his hind feet.
The bear let out with a ferocious roar
One that completely emptied the store.
But when workers arrived from the zoo,
They were ones who knew what to do.
So, it was easy enough, in their eyes,
The wild bear to simply tranquilize.
The local newspaper had this to say:
“Wal-Mart had a bear market today.”
Some guys many skills have mastered,
I blush when I try to tell little lies
and shaking I reveal my fakeness;
quite a few girls have slapped me hard.
Cindy went on vacation heading South,
she warned me priming up her mouth,
" Don't mess around with my girlfriend,
don't touch her! " I kept quite and grinned.
I refused to listen and promise I wouldn't;
her look expressed a plausible doubt,
I was a playboy in search of a hideaway
and while she was gone, I could surely play.
And fun I had through those two weeks,
Chrissy, the girl with pink and yellow hair,
asked me for a date, I couldn't refuse her
we headed down to the nearest beach to kiss.
Other nights we went to the movies,
we stuffed our mouths with buttery popcorn
and laughed hard spilling our drinks;
cheating on Cindy never induced guilt or scorn.
The time came for me to be slapped hard in the head
for being such a naughty boy, a liar without guilt
who cheated with her best friend to start a conflict
and ready to face embarrassment, I seemed not afraid.
One July evening when Chrissy and I were kissing
on the velvety sofa, I heard crackling noises coming
from the kitchen, heavy footsteps started approaching...
" Who is that? I hollered while my fret was increasing.
" It's me, pretty boy! I am back! You will regret this a lot!"
her shrilling voice was a rumbling thunder incurring fright,
" We are watching, " Friends "! I made up a silly excuse,
" You kissed Chrissy! You promised me you wouldn't have cheated! "
" Blame her, she tempted me! " I couldn't resist her! " I exclaimed.
" Silly boy, enough of your games...you have much to lose! "
" Ah, shameless liar, get out my sight! " And dashing towards me
she slapped me in the head making me feel her hard blow, " Come Chrissy,
she's going crazy! If she thought I was untrustworthy, why did she
she go on vacation? To test me? " I condemned her action with asperity.
Written on 7/3/2016
It's a day for taking a pledge
That we wo'nt litter earth with garbage
It's a day to introspect
About grim fact of greenhouse effect
An occasion of contrition for ozone erosion
A time for nonbiodegradable material to shun
And an event to declare on oath
That instead of incurring Nature's wrath
We'll opt for sustainable induswtrial growth
In post AIDS scenario
It's an occasion to explicitly state
The importance of disposal of medical waste
It's a time to warn eco-hostile industries,
who,by emitting toxic gases
From atmosphere oxygen slashes
Above all it's a carnival for planting trees
For suffusing with oxygen the morning breeze
Blood soaked disfigurement on the Cross of Love,
Etched markings of whipped cord; sinew of flesh torn
To shreds. Grimace of pain; ashen face of love
"Water! water! He cries, for I thirst. I thirst for love
For you and My Father. My body is weak and scorn
Is my food. My mouth is dry and I thirst for love"
Gazing down He cried "Father, forgive them, they
Know not what they do". Gazing heavenward He whispered
"Father, into your hands I commit My spirit." Day
Became night, incurring His rapturous hour of death
And with victory gain'd He sung His last words of life.
"It is finished" and fell asleep, now exhausted of breath.
Where now death your victory, where now death your
Sting? Can you not hear the Christ of God sing
His canticles, His psalms and glorias to His King"
Cradled now in His mothers' arms, her tears fall
Gently and mingle with her beloved Son's blood;
The sacrificial Lamb of God - Do YOU hear His call?
"Come unto Me all you who are heavy laden and I
Will give you rest and learn from Me; for I am gentle
And humble in Heart, and you will find rest for your
Souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light."
UNPLEASANT ONES
Money obligations:
Parking tickets, mortgage, credit cards
All sorts of insurance:
Life, car, house, dental and health
Are overbearing and unmentionable
Disenchanting, unpleasant ones
Crying out loud: “Till death do us part”
Assets have corresponding dues
Unavoidable liabilities,
Valid or invalid reasons
Are unthinkable!
It entail fines and penalties
The more unpleasant ones
The more pleasant ones if you settle!
Although non-payment
Carries no imprisonment
Guaranteed by the Constitution
But it only turn to excitement
Interest incurring, mounting balances
Doubly unpleasant and annoying!
I’m Bruce the goose
And fly with geese
I follow the rules
In forming V’s
And being a goose
Sometimes I lead
Then play caboose
To lessen breeze
Yet I faltered
Their perfect V’s
When I altered
Their masterpiece
I figured we’d
Fly much better
If we proceed
With a new letter
Seen from below
Instead of V’s
Our flight would show
F’s, R’s, or D’s
I got our flock
To fly an H
As the earth gawked
At us on stage
And for our next show
We tried N’s and J’s
But they were all slow
Incurring delays
And since we’re geese
We need distance
But mileage decreased
Every instance
Yet the next night
Deep in slumber
I figured it right:
To fly a number
Numbers are bold
And by those ways
We’ll leave the cold
In half the days
We first picked seven
Thinking it’s lucky
Looking toward heaven
We would be ‘ducky’
No ‘ducky’ for geese
So tried five then nine
But that had to cease
None of them were fine
But being a goose
I knew what to do
And proposed to choose
Four hundred and two
A number that vast
Couldn’t go wrong
We’d fly lightning fast
Direct and strong
We flapped formation
Just like the old V
Made our rotations
And some history
But something went wrong
With some of the geese
Before very long
We weren’t in one piece
The four became five
Some curves went straight
The hundred nosed dived
At too quick a rate
We crashed on a mount
Then found the clue
That geese can’t count
Past the number two
Love renders us to bloom.
Lust stifles us into gloom.
Feeding food with care is love.
Surrendering body for hunger is lust.
Cajoling for copulation everyday not knowing
the mood of the girl is pure lust.
Accepting the denial of her with smile portrays love.
Smoldering looks stirs the heart:
where in,
Implosion becomes love.
Explosion becomes lust.
Kissing from heart is love.
Fondling from persuasion is lust.
Thus,
Love gives happiness.
Lust kills happiness.
LUST~
Salacious skin always luring to commit the sin.
Hurried lips keeps exploring in hunger to devour the forbidden fruit to seek pleasure, incurring pain.
LOVE~
Penetrating the eyes with delicate gaze,
And thrusting the heart with tender care
paints pure love.
Me:
When you always intend to have coitus..Where comes the love?
Does making love promote love or lust?!
Soul:
If it is exceeds a restricted limit it is supposed to be called lust and not love.
Finally, I would compare love to a soft petal and lust to a spine.
3-7-2020
Note:Love or Lust Poetry Contest
Sponsored by D.W.Rodgers.
Though thine two grown
former babes in crib age,
now lead checkered lives,
no longer monopolize my time
as though their persons went backstage
either one embracing, judging,
and negotiating positive
chutes and ladders with courage
evoking glee this papa
helped both beautiful lasses
avoid being risk averse
navigating life with minimal damage
though to get ahead of the class,
(asper the eldest Eden Liat)
credit karma fairly and squarely attributed
to herself with encourage
meant from this papa, who oft time
felt he lacked any clue
akin to a hobbled battleship left
to drift at sea, whence,
upon landfall sub
sequent lee forced to forage
in a foreign dominion (akin to being
among Settlers of Catan),
plus devoid of instruments to gauge,
an optimal strategic operation,
thus figuratively groping in the dark
(unaware of a brewing twister)
guided by blind faith
doth admit saying sorry,
but apologetic homage
would disqualify thyself,
a "FAKE" mastermind
undeserving of just desserts,
unfairly via diktat plucking sweet treats
awash within Candy Land,
a deceptive image
entrancing, luring and, spellbinding
ultimately incurring trouble,
particularly when Shana Aubrey
(younger by about
twenty six months)
garnered lion's share of parental attention
necessitated mandatory intervention
due to language
skills, plus pronounced
developmental delay,
where supreme social service
sages gentle massage
wrought divine prestidigitation
as one after another
case worker did overencourage
to counteract congenital
cognitive setback (coalesced in utero),
now finds das dada envious
(cuz, aye got mired, hogtied,
and bogged down with
obsessive compulsive trivial pursuit,
hence warrant so lucky as thee Punim)
steers ship shape body electric
round her uncharted cerebral
cape of good hope passage.
King Edward The VIIIth, pitiable blighter, abdicated the throne.
He had the hots for an American divorcee - this the Brits would not condone!
He was King for a spell and the paramours continued their torrid romance.
They later wed, he was busted to Duke of Windsor and they settled in France.
Wallis Simpson was middle-class but knew how to climb the social rungs.
She was twice divorced which triggered a legion of wagging tongues.
They met at Lady Furness's digs and Wallie thought Eddie not all that sexy,
But they wed incurring upon The Archbishop of Canterbury a case of apoplexy!
Entry for Carolyn Devonshire's "Clerihew Couples For Valentines Day" Contest
(10 January 2019)
Had we but oil enough and gas,
All welfare bill would easily pass,
And we’d be spending hard, I bet,
Without incurring any debt.
You, on the Moon, would keep your bees
And tend to Martian refugees;
And I would sleep all day, in mirth,
Upon the lap of Mother Earth.
And I would send such cash to you
As to convert a die-hard Jew.
And I would pay an arm and a leg
To have my raincoat hung on a peg.
And to unpeg it, as it goes,
I’d pay, most gladly, through the nose.
But in my yard, each morn, I see
No oil or gas in front of me.
No one sends manna from the skies;
Not even Salomon the Wise.
Before you give, you first must have:
There are no bulls where cows don’t calve.
It’s good to have a kingly heart,
But spendthrift kingdoms fall apart.
Therefore, as we cannot grow rich
By drilling ground or digging a ditch,
We’d better find another way
To safely make ends meet today.
Let us make haste and use our strength,
For only then shall we, at length,
Reboot our brains, by lies undone,
And set them free, and make them run.
He smiled when he saw his countrymen fighting
He smiled when his heart was crying
He smiled when he stood against the odds
He smiled when he followed his God
He smiled when he was finally freed
He smiled when injustice tried to bend his knees
He smiled when he lost his first heart throb
He smiled when he was snubbed
He kept smiling in the face of adversity
Lord have mercy
His style, was to flash a big welcoming smile
A smile can quiet words filled with rage
And it’s worked from the beginning of time
To this present age
Why smile?
Because it’s a sign to those who know not what they’re doing
That upon their heads, heaps of coals they’re incurring
If they only knew what they were doing…….